I'll Pitch the Rum
by katie3
Summary: A five-year-old girl finds her way onto the Black Pearl. Jack isn't overly fond of children, and plans to take the girl home, no questions asked. Anamaria has other plans.
1. Food

This fic was written for the fic challenge given by Bitchy Little Pixy. Is that not the best pen  
  
name ever?  
  
*****  
  
Jack Sparrow- CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, had been having quite the enjoyable few months  
  
lately. He was back on the Black Pearl. Barbossa was dead and his men, or what remained of  
  
them, were in jail (or perhaps, mused Jack, had made good friends with the executioner). Jack's  
  
new crew admired their captain and worked his beloved vessel unquestioningly, and the whole  
  
lot sailed from port to port, occasionally visiting Will and Elizabeth, happy couple as they were.  
  
Yes, life was rich and full.  
  
"So, what say, Love? Care to visit my cabin and have a little fun this evening?" Jack  
  
winked at Anamaria and was met with a resounding 'SMACK!', the sound of Anamaria's open  
  
palm coming into contact with the side of his head at seemingly supernatural high speed. Jack  
  
blinked once to refocus his eyes, then grinned to Anamaria once more. "Alright, then, maybe  
  
some other time!" He continued grinning a bit dazedly as he watched her stalk down the stairs  
  
toward the mess area. "I love it when they play hard-to-get," he intoned conversationally to  
  
himself.  
  
The Black Pearl, sans Barbossa-era black sails and now sporting unobtrusive white  
  
canvas, was pulling near a port town. And oh, what a lovely little settlement is was. Full of nice  
  
little immigrants from the motherland, settling down nicely on this nice little island of Barbados,  
  
with their nice houses and nice things and nice stacks of gold in their nice little safety boxes, all  
  
right there for some nice little pirates to come along and take. Nicely, of course.   
  
But, also of course, Jack had recently received a rather great deal of attitude adjustment,  
  
and he was rather disinclined to raid any towns. After all- the residents were, in all likelihood,  
  
very NICE people.   
  
Be that as it may, the Black Pearl was nearly out of supplies. One-third of a water barrel  
  
left, and the galley stores had near run out. Most likely had Gibbs to thank for that, but what  
  
could you do? Well, one thing you could do was make a visit to the local market, so to speak.  
  
They had stores enough to feed the rest of the islands, and then some, so it wasn't the biggest of  
  
matters, really. Right? Right.  
  
Jack swayed just a bit as he walked to the helm. He took it in one hand and made a  
  
shooing motion to Gibbs, who'd taken it up in Anamaria's absence (who had been taking it in  
  
Jack's). Gibbs sauntered off, taking a quick swig from his flask as he did so. Jack looked around  
  
at the crew, then shouted his commands as they came into a sort of bay, just a bit off of the main  
  
town. "Weigh anchor! Raise sails!" He looked around at the crew and saw a small group just  
  
standing around, waiting. "And you three," Jack demanded, pointing to them, "lower the  
  
longboat. . . if you'd be SO kind." He grinned his usual 'somehow-winning-despite-those-teeth'  
  
grin, and the crew members obeyed easily enough.   
  
Once the Black Pearl had been laid to anchor in the calm waters that were a product of the  
  
encompassing sandbars, a few choice members of the crew piled into the longboat that had been  
  
lowered into the water. Amongst these were Gibbs and Anamaria, Gibbs because Jack knew him  
  
well and Anamaria because. . . well. . . Jack just couldn't help himself. He knew she'd stick  
  
around- very few pirates got as much plunder as those that sailed with Captain Jack Sparrow.  
  
And he intended to take full advantage of that fact. For now, things were looking good for Jack.  
  
The small longboat was rowed to shore easily enough in the calm water, and left easily  
  
accessible for when they came back. The small group made its way to town through the sparse  
  
foliage and trees. The port town was known as 'King's Lay', and Jack had to struggle to keep  
  
himself from snickering at that. It became infinitely easier to do so once Anamaria had elbowed  
  
him pointedly in the ribs.   
  
Once they'd made their way casually into town, Jack sauntering ahead in the lead with  
  
Anamaria and Gibbs behind him, and two others bringing up the rear. The streets of this town  
  
were busy, about the same level of being crowded as you'd expect to see in Port Royale (which  
  
Jack had begun to use as a base of judgement on all other towns). Spotting the marketplace, Jack  
  
looked behind him at his temporarily small crew, cracking a wide grin.  
  
"Well, gents - and m'lady - our plan is thus: You two-" he nodded at the two behind  
  
Anamaria and Gibbs, "- will each be in charge of a barrel of water. Don't worry about trying to  
  
conceal what you're doing, I'll take care of that. And dear Anamaria and Mr. Gibbs, you two and  
  
myself will grab what we can in food, make our escape, and be back on the Black Pearl within an  
  
hour, savvy?"  
  
The crew members nodded and followed Jack complacently into the marketplace,  
  
spreading themselves around to watch Jack work on a particular stall owner that he'd  
  
approached. None of the crew failed to notice that, along with barrels of water and a decent food  
  
stock, the particular stall Jack had chosen displayed several bottles of an amber-tinted liquid.  
  
Jack had, of course, found the stall with rum.  
  
"Well, mate, what're you planning on selling these for?" questioned Jack, pointing  
  
vaguely in the direction of the water barrels and grinning lopsidedly. The stout shopkeeper  
  
crossed his arms and looked generally irritated by the question.   
  
"Four shillings each. Rain's been a mite scarce 'ere as of late."   
  
Jack put on an overly startled look. "Four? Is that all?"  
  
The stall keeper didn't look quite sure what to make of this. ". . . Eh?"  
  
"Only four shillings?" specified Jack. His brow creased as though he were perplexed.   
  
". . . Aye."  
  
"Well there must be something wrong with them," finished Jack, making as if to walk  
  
away disdainfully. The crew members couldn't help but exchange amused glances. Anamaria and  
  
Gibbs had been sidling around the sides of the stall and eyeing some sacks of food. Anamaria's  
  
hand twitched centimeters away from the loop of a sack that appeared to be full of potatoes or  
  
yams. Gibbs was eyeing two crates stamped 'SALT PORK 17-3'.  
  
"'Ey, now!" said the shopkeeper quickly, motioning for Jack to wait, obviously not  
  
wanting to lost business from someone that thought four shillings was a low price. "This 'ere is  
  
GOOD water, ma- er, SIR."  
  
Jack stopped in his swaying walk and whirled around to face the stall keeper again. "Is it,  
  
now? Well then, I wouldn't make the purchase for any less than five shillings."   
  
The guard frowned again. "GOOD water, SIR, an' I 'ave such confidence in it as I'll  
  
lower th' price to three shillings an' a 'alf penny!"  
  
"Six shillings!" Jack countered.  
  
"Three!"  
  
"Eight!"  
  
"Two!"  
  
"Ten!"  
  
"One an' a 'alf penny!"  
  
There was a tense silence between the two. Gibbs and Anamaria were walking away now,  
  
Anamaria with the sack of potatoes or yams or whatever the bloody hell they'd been as well as  
  
another sack of what appeared to be oranges slung over her shoulder. Gibbs had the two crates of  
  
pork and - God bless him and his whole family - had slipped the necks of two bottles of rum  
  
under his belt and they sloshed pleasantly as he walked away at an even, calm pace. Jack  
  
suddenly whipped his head toward the food. "How much is your dried fish?" He pointed to said  
  
dried fish, as if the water incident hadn't happened at all.   
  
"GET ON WITH YEH!" shouted the stall keeper. "AWAY WITH YE NOW!!" Jack  
  
started walking away, but backwards so as to face the man, his dark eyes keeping contact with  
  
this adversary's small piggy ones. Jack, however, noted out of the corner of his eye, that the  
  
remaining two crew members were now rolling away the barrels of water that had previously  
  
been under discussion. Jack clapped his hands together and bowed to the stall keeper slightly.  
  
"I shall be getting on, sir, and I do apologize for taking so much of your time. Really and  
  
truly. It'll never happen again, I can assure you." He continued to grin, taking away from some of  
  
the validity of the claim.   
  
"Aye, now GO." The stall keeper turned away in an angry huff, to talk to some women in  
  
plain clothes that had drawn his attentions and apparently, from what Jack could hear, were  
  
looking for the nearest loo.   
  
'Women and their loo. . . always going in pairs, always. . . hrm,' thought Jack to himself,  
  
noting that the stall keeper's attentions were sufficiently drawn away from his stock. Jack walked  
  
merrily past the stall once more, not neglecting to nonchalantly loop his hand around the opening  
  
of one of the sacks. It was a bit heavy, but that probably just meant it was something better. He  
  
slung it over his shoulder (with a bit more effort than he would have liked; perhaps it was heavier  
  
than he thought), and from the bumping on his back as he walked away casually, he supposed it  
  
might be a slaughtered pig. Well wasn't that just enchanting. Would make for a good meal for  
  
the crew, though.  
  
Jack arrived back at the longboat, now loaded up with the water barrels, crates, and sacks,  
  
the crew members waiting patiently enough for him. Except, of course, for Anamaria.  
  
"Took your time, I see," she shot at him as soon as he emerged rather grandly from  
  
behind a large fern. He blinked once in the slightly brighter light then ambled over to the  
  
longboat, gingerly laying the single sack he'd taken on top of Anamaria's two.   
  
"No worries, no hurries, Love," he grinned, ducking a slap that she had aimed at his head.  
  
Gibbs cleared his throat.  
  
"Alright, alright, we best be gettin' back t' th' Pearl, mates! W-" He stopped upon  
  
receiving a sharp look from Jack.  
  
"That'll do, Gibbs," nodded Jack. "Now, let's get going!" He motioned to the Black  
  
Pearl, sitting calmly in the slightly shallow(er) waters. The four other members of the crew sat  
  
down on the planks crossing the longboat that served as seats, and Jack stood in the bow, looking  
  
overly dramatic as usual. There had been one occasion that Anamaria recalled that had involved  
  
Jack being drunk and falling into the water when standing in the longboat like this. She had, of  
  
course, been amused for the rest of the fortnight mocking him about it. Unfortunately, this time  
  
there was no such accident, and they made it back to the Black Pearl in a matter of minutes.   
  
The supplies were hauled up. It wasn't much variety, to be sure, but nobody was going to  
  
complain. Cooked up right, just about anything could make a suitable meal on a ship.  
  
"Wha' yeh got in yer sack, Jack?" piped up one crew member. Jack eyed said burlap sack  
  
with a scrutinizing glance.  
  
"Not quite sure, really. Thought it might be a pig." He grinned, knowing that you didn't  
  
see much of that on the Black Pearl anymore, now that Barbossa and his upper-class tastes were  
  
gone. The crew responded to this with an excited muttering. Jack leaned down and picked up his  
  
sack, untying the knot on top in one quick motion. He frowned slightly. Something seemed off  
  
about the shape that was pushing out the sides of the burlap. Something a bit too familiar about  
  
it.  
  
Jack overturned the sack and let the contents drop the very short distance of about twenty  
  
centimeters to land on the deck. The entire crew froze, a complete silence dropped over them like  
  
a heavy blanket. Anamaria finally found words.  
  
"You brought us a little GIRL."  
  
After the break in the silence, the whole crew started yelling at once. Jack barely heard  
  
them as he stared down in mild horror at the child lying unconscious on the deck. She was either  
  
African or Jamaican, her hair in small braids. Jack continued staring at her with morbid  
  
fascination as the crew started to fall silent, confused at his reaction. Well how the hell else was  
  
he SUPPOSED to react? Jack had stolen, lied, cheated, fought, threatened, killed when it was  
  
necessary, yes, but dear God, he had never done anything to a CHILD, by accident or otherwise.  
  
And now he had stolen a little girl. A bloody LITTLE GIRL. She was so small.   
  
"Slave," Gibbs finally murmured. "Has to have been. Why else would she'a been in a  
  
sack like that? Even so, s'not proper, keepin' a child like that. . ." he trailed off. Jack now  
  
appeared to be deeply perplexed.   
  
"No. . . not right at all," added Anamaria quietly. Her surprise had dissipated once Gibbs  
  
mentioned slavery, a growing trend in the islands, and in the colonies up north, if rumors were  
  
true. "She stays," finished Anamaria finally.  
  
Jack nodded. "Right, we'll be retur- she WHAT?!"   
  
"We're not bringing her back there!" Anamaria responded hotly, jabbing a finger back  
  
towards the town. "They left her in a SACK!"  
  
"Well, where would YOU have put her?" returned Jack. Anamaria looked so shocked at  
  
the absurdity of the question that he took the opportunity to add, "A-hah, just what I thought.  
  
You can't think of any place to put her eith-"  
  
"That's not the point!" she countered quickly, before he could finish. She pointed down at  
  
the girl. "Jack, look at her! She's not well! At LEAST let her stay for a while. A week. We can  
  
come around again in a week."  
  
"Four days."  
  
"Week and a half."  
  
"Five days."  
  
"Two weeks."  
  
"Six."  
  
"Three weeks."  
  
"A week."  
  
"Deal." Anamaria grinned. The crew glanced at one another, impressed that the woman  
  
had managed to outbargain Jack. One or two wondered if he might've been inclined to bend a bit  
  
for her and snickered lightly to themselves. Jack muttered and began to walk back to the helm  
  
before another call from Anamaria stopped him. "Jack Sparrow!"   
  
Jack rolled his eyes and turned around. "Captain. CAPTAIN. . . and what?"   
  
"You're just leaving her here on the deck?!"  
  
"I-" he stopped short at the mildly terrifying look on her face. He started again. "I  
  
wouldn't dream of it, Love." He gave an overly dramatic (as well as sarcastic) bow, and scooped  
  
up the limp form of the girl. He turned on his heal and started to carry her to the crew's bunks.   
  
"CAPTAIN Sparrow!"  
  
Jack whirled around again. "WHA-AT?!" he groaned loudly.  
  
"You think she's fit to stay with the crew? She stays in your cabin."  
  
"She stays WHERE?!"  
  
"Your cabin, or I pitch the rum in your sleep tonight."  
  
"I-" Jack stopped, now bordering on infuriated. "FINE. Why doesn't the whole bloody  
  
CREW just stay in my cabin? That way we can ALL be happy, and we'll be one BIG  
  
BLEEDING FAMILY, and. . ." his ranting trailed not off, but to a lower volume as he marched  
  
into his cabin with the girl in his arms. He was still muttering to himself after he set her on his  
  
bed when he realized that the door to his cabin was open and a good portion of the crew was  
  
staring at him. His eyes widened in shock and he quickly slammed the door.  
  
None of the crew had ever seen him angry, or even upset, until today. Needless to say,  
  
they were somewhat shocked themselves.  
  
Back in his cabin, Jack was pacing back and forth, throwing (ironically) mutinous glances  
  
at the small girl. He was thinking (and drinking) as he gestured slightly in the air in front of him.  
  
He muttered slightly as he did so.  
  
"Well of COURSE we're going to keep her. . . had to bloody grab that. . . and she's  
  
staying in MY. . . only for a week, though. . . bargained her d- wait, didn't she. . .?" He sighed,  
  
somewhat disgusted. He started to talk to himself again when he heard a thump. He whirled  
  
around and looked at the chair where he'd set the girl. Oh, she was gone. Fantastic. Yes.   
  
Jack looked around slowly. The door hadn't opened, and the room was only so big. There  
  
weren't THAT many places she could have gone. Bed? No. Chest? No, it would've made noise. .  
  
.Under the bed? Quite possible. Jack, not one to worry about his dignity in front of nobody but  
  
himself, quickly lay down on his stomach, looking under the bed. Was the girl there? Of course  
  
not. Of. Bloody. Course not.   
  
He'd defeated Barbossa, gotten back his beautiful Pearl, made friends with Will and  
  
Elizabeth, two nobles if there ever were ones, put a curse on himself and managed to retract it  
  
again, caught up to his own ship in a storm with a half-mad pirate crew from Tortuga, and now a  
  
tiny girl had vanished from under his nose when he turned his back for thirty seconds.  
  
A light tap on his shoulder.  
  
"WHOOZAT?!" shouted Jack, probably a good deal more startled than he should have  
  
been by the simple tap. The girl was standing above him, face blank, eyes wide. Jack paused,  
  
then pushed himself up and crouched down at eye-level with the girl. He narrowed his eyes,  
  
surveying her, then said finally, at length, ". . . You're good. I'll give you that." Looked her up  
  
and down once more. "Got a name, dearie?"  
  
The girl shook her head.  
  
"No name."  
  
Shook it again.  
  
"So you DO have a name?"  
  
Nodded.   
  
"The why'd you shake your head at first?"  
  
Shrugged.  
  
"Well, now that you've revealed that you do indeed have a name. . . would you like to tell  
  
Uncle Jacky?"  
  
Shook her head. Jack sighed. "Of course you wouldn't." He stood up and turned away,  
  
beginning to pace his cabin again, when a small voice, barely audible and almost supernaturally  
  
high in pitch, uttered, "Car'lyn."  
  
Jack froze in mid step then, in the way that only Jack would, kneeled down next to the  
  
girl, putting his face very near to hers. "Your name is Carolyn?"  
  
Nodded.   
  
"Well!" exclaimed Jack jovially, standing up again and clapping his hands together.  
  
"Pleasure to meet you, madam. I-" he paused for dramatic effect "-am Captain Jack Sparrow." He  
  
took off his hat and bowed. The look on the little girl- Carolyn's- face remained blank, if not  
  
somewhat horrified. Jack was, to put it mildly, surprised when he suddenly found her clinging to  
  
his leg. "Ehm. . . dearie, would you mind much if I could have my leg back?"  
  
Jack would never dream of harming a child. That didn't mean he was overly fond of  
  
them, either. They were loud- well, this one wasn't, but you never could tell- messy, needy,  
  
whiny, clinging (which this one happened to be), and Jack honestly didn't have the time to  
  
captain a ship and play father at the same time.   
  
Well wasn't this week going to be FUN.  
  
*****  
  
So! That's the first chapter, and, to Bitchy Little Pixy: I hope it's fit to your tastes! If anyone  
  
shows any particular interest in this, I'll continue, because I've got an idea of visiting Elizabeth  
  
and Will in this fic, as well as pairing up Jack and Anamaria in the end. Can't say what'll happen  
  
to Carolyn just yet, though.  
  
Review if you like, don't if you don't! Or do if you don't! Or don't if you do! Thanks much! 


	2. Storytime!

First off - Wow! Thanks so much for all of your positive feedback! I didn't expect NEARLY that  
  
many reviews on my first chapter. I'm not sure I entirely expected that many on the fic in its  
  
entirety.   
  
And thank you to Princess of the Pixies for her suggestions. To the rest of you - don't be afraid to  
  
tell me what I'm doing WRONG, either. That's how the story will get better: if I can fix the  
  
problems in it.   
  
Another note: I always thought that the town in the movie was spelled 'Port Royale' with an 'e'  
  
at the end, but in doing some research I read about 'Port Royal', which was a center for  
  
contraband trade between the Spanish and English, and was considered one of the most wicked  
  
and unwholesome cities you could imagine due to massive alcohol consumption by most  
  
citizens. I assume that the Port Royal/e that's seen in the movie is after some of the order was  
  
restored again by new English governors and new laws. Still, Port Royal/e was a center for  
  
buccaneers and privateers for a number of years (no rhyming intended), so maybe Jack didn't  
  
wind up there by accident at the beginning of the movie?  
  
Sorry for that long A/N, and thanks again!   
  
*****  
  
"All right, darling, you can let go." Carolyn shook her head at Jack's urging. Jack had  
  
been attempting to go about his duties as captain of the Black Pearl as usual, but was finding it  
  
rather difficult with this little girl whom he had known for the time period of five hours clinging  
  
to his leg. It was seven o' clock, or thereabouts, and the sun was dragging itself ever nearer to the  
  
horizon. It'd be dark soon. Another hour or two.  
  
Another hour or two of eternity with a small child clinging to his leg. Goodness me, this  
  
was going to be a fantastic week.   
  
"Carolyn, would we like to visit Auntie Anamaria?" The thought struck him as a good  
  
one. Women knew about taking care of kids, right? Anamaria could take care of this one. Feed it  
  
or something. Of course, Jack could feed it too, but really, wasn't that rather too un-captain-like?  
  
Feeding a child? Entirely off of the subject of feeding the child, Jack asked in a drawling, musing  
  
voice, "How old are you, Carolyn?"  
  
A long silence, the feeling of tiny arms clinging more tightly to his leg, then finally the  
  
meek response, "Fi'."   
  
"Five whole years old, my what a grand age that was. I remember it like it was  
  
yesterday," Jack mused, remembering no such time in his life, except maybe the fact that his  
  
father had been particularly good at taking small children, throwing them in the air, then catching  
  
them again. Jack wondered if he'd inherited this skill, almost plucked the girl off of his leg to see  
  
if he indeed had, then decided against it. He was not that fond of the thing. Yet. Yet? No, not yet.  
  
Maybe if she'd stop CLINGING to his GOD DAMNED LEG. But not yet.   
  
Anamaria was gone (mostly) from Jack's thoughts. He was at the helm, steering  
  
pleasantly towards what he hoped was Cuba. He hadn't exactly bothered, thus far, to check a  
  
reliable compass. Well. He had an excellent sense of direction and doubted that it would matter  
  
much, in the end, seeing as they'd reach Cuba or they wouldn't, and, since those were the only  
  
two viable outcomes, he had a fifty percent chance of reaching his desired destination. Which  
  
was all well and good. But he didn't want to take more than three days getting there, and that  
  
would require some hard sailing at this point. Which brought his mind back around to Anamaria  
  
and her likely capability of taking the little girl off of Jack's hands, seeing as he would need to be  
  
free to do captainly duties and things of that sort.   
  
That, and Jack figured that, while rum was all right by age eight or nine, or thereabouts, a  
  
five-year-old may be just a bit too small to handle the stuff. And Jack, having spent quite a bit of  
  
time with himself and knowing his own habits, was likely to become a bit generous in sharing his  
  
rum, should he consume enough of it himself. Not that he cared about what happened to the girl  
  
or anything, of course.  
  
Of course.  
  
At the moment, however, they were hopefully bound for Cuba and Anamaria was  
  
nowhere in sight. Jack looked around and saw only Gibbs drinking something or other (but likely  
  
liquor) from his flask, Cotton's parrot flapping about in the rigging, and one or two deck hands  
  
checking rigging and swabbing deck. Piratical things of that sort.   
  
Well, so much for hard sailing and reaching Cuba in three days.  
  
At that particular moment, a member of Jack's crew decided to come up and make kindly  
  
with the girl. He had been watching her clinging to Jack and was reminded strongly of his own  
  
little girl he'd had a while ago. Didn't know what'd happened to her and her mother, but what  
  
could you do? And so, upon these thoughts, he kneeled down to about eye-level with the girl.  
  
Jack muttered a greeting and the little girl, (Carolyn, Jack had said her name was), buried her  
  
face in Jack's trousers. Jack sighed.  
  
"'Lo, there, Miss Carolyn!" the crew member piped cheerfully. "Gettin' along all right,  
  
there?"  
  
Carolyn did not answer. She clung more tightly to Jack's leg. The member of the crew  
  
frowned a bit and continued on, "Well, I'll be seein' yeh 'round, I 'spect. . . seein' as we're on a  
  
ship an' all." He looked around a bit then stared at her hard for a moment. Seeing as this had  
  
about the same results as speaking to her, he stood up and walked away. HIS girl had certainly  
  
been more friendly to strangers, he knew that much.  
  
Jack hummed a bit to himself, trying to calm his nerves. He'd had the damned song stuck  
  
in his head for MONTHS, it seemed.   
  
"Devils and ya da da really bad eggs. . ." He'd always loved the 'really bad eggs' part.  
  
Who had taught. . . hm. He should know where the song came from, after all, songs don't just  
  
magically sing themselves into your head. Unless you were one of those well-to-do composers  
  
like Mozart or Bach or Beethowhatsizname. But Jack was not, and so the song HAD to have  
  
come from somewhere. There had been rum involved, he recalled, but there was rum involved in  
  
the learning of almost every song he knew, and a girl- oh! Right it had been in that whole ordeal  
  
with Barbossa and the curse and Will and Eliza-  
  
With Will and Elizabeth. The happy dear couple whom Jack held EVER so close to his  
  
heart. And of course they held him in the highest esteem likewise.  
  
"Carolyn, my dear. . ." began Jack. "How would you feel about visiting Uncle Jacky's  
  
dear friends in Port Royale?  
  
A slight clench on his leg was the only response he got for a moment, then the brief  
  
bobbing of her head against the rough cloth of his pants. She had nodded. Jack grinned.   
  
"Well, then! ANAMARIA!"  
  
Anamaria's head popped up from the stairwell leading to the crew's quarters. She looked  
  
positively irate. "WHAT?!"  
  
"We are changing our set course and heading for Jamaica!"  
  
"I'm sure Jamaica is just thrilled!" And she was gone. Jack frowned slightly then looked  
  
down at Carolyn, who was staring at the now-empty stairwell with wide eyes. His face was  
  
plastered with a look of deep thought as he tilted his head upward again to scan the horizon  
  
absently, then he began to twist the helm with his one hand, glancing at the sun. It was positioned  
  
just a bit over the horizon now, and that way would be west. Jack turned and started heading  
  
straight for it. Jamaica was only thirty or forty kilometers to the west of where the Pearl sailed at  
  
this moment, and Port Royale was some good distance beyond that, maybe hundred-fifty  
  
kilometers. But they could ride the winds along the coast easily enough and be there in a day, or  
  
so. Military vessels taken into consideration, there might be a good deal of dodging and-  
  
There was a slight tugging on his trousers leg. Oh God. He tilted his head slowly  
  
downward, eyes widened at the small girl. "Yes, Carolyn?" he ground out after a length of  
  
silence.  
  
"Missa. . . Missa Sparruh, sir. . . s'gettin' dark . . . an'. . ." she trailed off, leaving it to  
  
assumption that Jack would get the gist of what she was saying.  
  
"I am fully aware of that, Carolyn, yes. You see, darkness is this thing that happens when  
  
the sun goes away. It's quite fascinating, how that works, one event directly related to and  
  
following another." A pause. Jack noted her silence at his words, and a tighter clinging to his leg.  
  
He was beginning to think she'd cut off the circulation before long. He sighed, then continued,  
  
"And I suppose you would like to go indoors where the aforementioned darkness may be  
  
avoided."   
  
Nodding.  
  
"Well, we are but thirty kilometers from the eastern coast of Jamaica, my dear, and soon  
  
we shall make port. But until then, I'm afraid Uncle Jacky will need to stay on deck and at the  
  
helm. Unless you'd like to make the venture to his cabin alone."  
  
Shaking of her small head.  
  
"Right then. Well, we shall set our anchor in approximately an hour or so. Perhaps half  
  
and a quarter. Sound savvy?" And another nod against his leg. Brilliant.  
  
The Black Pearl cut through the waves at a nice clip, reaching a suitable looking little  
  
inlet about five minutes sooner than Jack had predicted they would. Jack commanded the crew,  
  
which had gradually emerged with the dying light, with sharp, barking orders and an encouraging  
  
insult here and there. As the anchor was set, Jack lifted his leg up as though taking a marching  
  
step. Carolyn held on as long as she could, then fell to the deck, landing on her bottom. Jack  
  
leaned down, picked her up and set her on her feet, picked a piece of dust off of her shirt and  
  
flicked it away, then straightened up again. He looked around. The ship was at a complete stop,  
  
rolling a bit in the calm water, but otherwise at rest. Swallowing his pride (albeit is own,  
  
modified version of what one would call 'pride'), Jack kneeled down and looked Carolyn in the  
  
eye.  
  
"All right, Carolyn, darling. We're going to go to old Jack's cabin and see if we can get  
  
you to sleep, sound good?" She nodded once then suddenly wrapped her arms around Jack's neck  
  
tightly. Jack soon discovered that she had no intention of letting go after a few attempts of  
  
'Carolyn-dear-let-go-of-Uncle-Jacky's-head'. He was starting to draw a few snickers from some  
  
of his crew members. Having no other options at this point, Jack chose the only clear solution.  
  
Anamaria and Gibbs had come back to the deck and were discussing Jack's recent  
  
itinerary changes, when the captain in question walked by. Both stifled laughter as Jack walked  
  
by, the most dignified of expressions on his face. He was the picture of purposeful solemnity.  
  
The one feature marring this image was the five-year-old Carolyn, arms still clasped firmly  
  
around his neck and feet dangling down somewhere below his waist. It was clear to the watching  
  
crew members that Jack was doing everything in his power to make it seem as though the girl  
  
was not there at all. The crew also agreed in a murmur that he was doing a fair job of it. Jack  
  
made his way straight to his cabin and closed the door behind him, still seemingly denying little  
  
Carolyn's presence. As soon as the lock clicked into place, the crew exchanged mildly surprised  
  
looks with one another in the dying sunlight, then burst out in roaring laughter.  
  
"Oh, my God!" laughed one pirate to Mr. Cotton, who, though mute, looked generally  
  
amused by the situation just as much as anyone. "Wha's Jack gott'n 'imself into?"  
  
Cotton, of course, made no reply, but his parrot filled in the gap with a resounding, "Yo-  
  
ho-ho and a bottle of rraawk!". Which was good enough for the pirate that had wondered at what  
  
Jack had indeed gotten himself into.   
  
Jack was finally able to pluck Carolyn off of his neck. He set her down on his bed, made a  
  
small 'stay!' motion with both hands to her, then turned around and took off his coat, pistol and  
  
sheath with sword inside, a few other odds and ends, and finally, with great care, his hat. He  
  
folded all of this with a practiced perfection, then set them on an old, somehow misplaced-  
  
looking armchair. It looked as though it'd once been a very nice piece of furniture belonging to a  
  
noble or a man or woman of court, but now the fabric was torn and faded and the wood was  
  
scuffed. It was Jack's favorite chair. It was the chair he'd sat in as he was told by the first captain  
  
of the Black Pearl that he was in for a promotion. But that was past, and Carolyn was present.  
  
And, until a week was up, she was also future. Jack stared at her sitting on his bed. She stared  
  
back with wide, seemingly shocked eyes. They always looked like that, of course. Sort of made  
  
the girl endearing. Sort of. In a way. Ehm.  
  
"Missa Sparruh?"   
  
Jack was so startled by her sudden speaking that he jumped slightly. Calming down  
  
quickly and clearing his throat, he managed to force out a strained, "Yes, Carolyn?" She smiled  
  
shyly and he felt himself weakening. Damn that smile! Oh, wait, she was looking wide-eyed  
  
again. . . She looked from the bed to Jack then back to the bed again. It was then that Jack  
  
noticed the evident droop of her eyelids and the telltale slouch that every person in the world  
  
gained when they wanted everyone else to know that they were quite exhausted indeed.  
  
Realization dawned on Jack's face. "Tired, eh?" Carolyn bobbed her head in a nod, this time  
  
putting much more effort into raising it again. Jack continued, "So, ehm. . . a bed. . . right. Well."  
  
He looked around the room. There was his bed, and the chair. And that was about it, as far as  
  
places to sleep went. Jack decided that he was going to have to give up the right to his small bed  
  
tonight, and perhaps for the week.   
  
"All right, all right. . . you win." He sighed a bit and pulled the blanket, a bit tattered after  
  
so much use, down to the foot of the bed, picked Carolyn up (with no protests, but a sleep-  
  
saturated yawn from the latter), and set her down. He adjusted her once or twice, finally found  
  
the position to his liking, and nodded in approval. Carolyn simply remained silent, with the  
  
occasional yawn breaking in, of course, as all of this took place. Jack then pulled the blanket  
  
back up to her chin and tucked her in tightly. Once the tucking-in process was complete, Jack  
  
stood back a bit and surveyed his work, thinking to himself that taking care of a child wasn't SO  
  
hard after all.   
  
It was then that he noted Carolyn's wide eyes and distressed face.  
  
Apparently he'd tucked her in a bit TOO tightly.   
  
He hastened to loosen the blanket around her, and a look of sleepy, but not weary (for  
  
children never quite manage to look weary), gratitude filled her face. Jack smiled a bit inwardly,  
  
despite himself. He decided he'd leave the candle on for her , and began to head for the door. He  
  
said in a stage whisper over his shoulder, "All right, nighty-night, Carolyn, darling!" He turned  
  
again and began to reach for the handle. As his hand came within one or two centimeters'  
  
distance from it, he heard a small whimper. He paused, battled with the sigh that wanted to  
  
escape him, and turned around to face the little girl lying in his bed. "Yesss. . . . Carolyn?"  
  
"Nnnm."  
  
"Well, as convincing an argument as that was, I'm afraid I'll have to decl-"  
  
"W'joo tell me a story?"  
  
Jack was so caught off-guard by this question that he answered automatically, "All right."  
  
He blinked once, a look of perplexity crossing his features, then pulled a small chair (not THE  
  
chair) over to the side of his narrow bed. He noted that with the straw-filled mattress and tattered  
  
blankets. The pillow may as well have not been there, it was so smashed after years of hard use.  
  
Not that you could use a pillow hard, exactly. Well, that one prostitute from Barbados had, but. . .  
  
Not the time to be thinking about things like this, Jack, m'lad. Jack nodded a bit in  
  
agreement with his own thoughts, then sat down in the small chair. "A story, eh?" He paused.  
  
"What kind of story were you thinking of, my dear sweet Carolyn?"  
  
"I 'unno." Well of course she didn't.  
  
"All right, ehm. . ." Jack looked around the room, hoping for something to catch his eye  
  
and inspire him. His eyes trailed to his hat, coat and weapons. The corner of his mouth twitched  
  
in a smile and he thought to himself, 'Not without my effects!'. It was a statement by which  
  
many had come to know him. Jack looked back to Carolyn, struck with the information that he so  
  
desired.  
  
"Well. . . I'll start. . . eleven years ago. In Tortuga, one of the last pirate strongholds."  
  
Carolyn's eyes widened at the mention of pirates. She didn't seem quite so sleepy now. Jack  
  
grinned appreciatively and continued, "There was a man, a pirate, a captain, and he had a great,  
  
beautiful ship. Oh, he loved this ship, it was his absolute favorite, and this captain, he sets into  
  
Tortuga with the plan in his head to go after the treasure on this island way out to see, and this  
  
island is the Isla de Muerta. S'a big, frightening place, and if you'll just glance at a map, you'll  
  
see what Isla de Muerta is shaped like.   
  
"So this captain, he rounds up a crew in Tortuga, adding to the few men he had with him  
  
already. He'd already had a first mate and quartermaster, he and the quartermaster being  
  
especially good friends, and the first mate being a fine-enough bloke, as the times called for. So I  
  
says to my- well, he says to his crew, he says, 'Gents, we shall be sailing for the treasure that  
  
you've heard about, but never dared to believe in,' and they're all a bit skeptical, save that  
  
quartermaster and first mate, but that captain, he knew what he was doing. 'The treasure on the  
  
Isla de Muerta.' And the captain turns to his quartermaster - Bill, his name was - and says, 'By  
  
God, mate, this is going to be fun.' And old Bill. . . he just grinned. And the captain grinned  
  
back. They really were quite good friends."  
  
Jack paused and looked at Carolyn to see if she was still listening. And she was indeed.  
  
Jack continued.  
  
"So this captain, and his quartermaster and first mate - his name'd be just Barbossa, to  
  
everyone-" Jack's lip curled as he told Carolyn this, "-and the crew set off to this island, but only  
  
the captain had any idea where it was. So of course the rest of the crew was in the dark, and the  
  
captain, he didn't mind that one bit. Nor did the crew, for he had proved himself an honest man,  
  
or about as honest as a pirate that has not yet seen his share of hardships can be.  
  
"Well, after three days of quite nice sailing - really, you couldn't have asked for better -  
  
the first mate Barbossa comes up to the captain and he says-" Jack screwed up his face and put on  
  
a heavy piratical accent, "- he says 'Cap'n, we was all figgerin' that since on a pirate ship, yeh  
  
don't want t' be keepin' any secrets. . .,' and the captain, he just says, 'Aye, that's true, go on,'  
  
and Barbossa gets this nasty look on his face and says, he says to the captain, 'Well, glad t' see  
  
that yer so quick to agree! Well, the crew an' I, we was figgerin' the coordinates t' this 'ere  
  
island ought t' be split up equal-like, jus' like we splits up everythin' else!' and, well, that sounds  
  
about square to the captain, at the time, so he gives them the coordinates. . ."  
  
***  
  
The candle was running lower on its wick, now. Jack had eventually stood up when he  
  
could keep in his energy no longer. He was continuing animatedly. "So Barbossa, well, he tells  
  
Elizabeth about this curse, y'see, and Elizabeth, well, the poor lass hasn't any idea WHAT  
  
exactly to make of it all, so she panics, and she gets this knife and Barbossa chases her all about  
  
until she finally stabs him!" Jack made a motion as though he had driven a dagger into his own  
  
heart, then continued quickly, "She STABS him and, well, you'd think that'd be the end of that,  
  
wouldn't you? But no, he just pulls that knife right out and it's all dripping blood and gore and  
  
Elizabeth, she's just bleeding MAD with shock, so she stumbles outside the dining cabin and she  
  
sees the crew, and she finds out that the CREW-"   
  
  
  
Jack paused, to look over his shoulder at Carolyn. He'd been moving about quite a bit as  
  
he spoke, gesticulating a bit wildly to make his points clear. Carolyn's wide eyes stared back at  
  
him for a moment, then fell shut and her head fell back onto Jack's thin pillow. Apparently she'd  
  
been hanging onto consciousness for dear life to hear Jack's story. Jack grinned a bit and patted  
  
the side of Carolyn's curled up form gently (looking over his shoulder to make sure none of the  
  
crew was watching him, of course).   
  
Jack licked the tip of his thumb and index finger and squeezed them quickly over the  
  
wick of the candle to put it out. It was most likely only nine or ten o'clock (lights out was eight,  
  
and Jack hoped his crew wouldn't be too upset, given the circumstances), and he had a mind to  
  
go out on the deck and talk to a few of his fellow gentlemen of fortune.   
  
Jack gingerly closed the door behind him, and walked over to where the anchor line was  
  
tied, checking it carefully before settling up alongside Gibbs and inserting himself into the  
  
conversation that Gibbs was having with two other crew members. Anamaria had been standing  
  
next to Jack's door as he walked out. She watched him with the other men, a faint smile pulling  
  
lightly at the corners of her mouth. She'd been listening to Jack's story from the point at which  
  
'the captain' had walked into the blacksmith shop. It was, after all, a very interesting story.  
  
*****  
  
And of course, there's more to come! Read (guess you've done that already, if you've gotten this  
  
far), review, if you like, and. . . thanks very much! All of the feedback is what's keeping me  
  
going! 


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